


Spoons

by leere



Series: Shit I Write On Tumblr [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Peterick cuddling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoons

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 6/30/15.

“Can I sleep with you?” Pete asks, just this side of hesitant, though it’s hardly even a question because he’s in Patrick’s bunk before Patrick’s even opened his mouth to respond.

“I guess,” Patrick grumbles, squirming until Pete’s comfortably spooned against him without it being weird - meaning Pete’s crotch is a good three inches from Patrick’s ass, but they’re still pressed back-to-chest. It’s a bit awkward, and not nearly as intimate as Pete would like, but it’s Patrick’s only rule when it comes to cuddling, so Pete deals with it.

“You’re warm,” he says happily, nuzzling Patrick’s neck.

“So’s hell,” Patrick says, sounding tired and irritable. “Go spoon Satan. I’m sure he’s got plenty of warmth to share.”

Pefe grins. “Satan’s not ticklish, though!”

“No-” Patrick starts, but it’s too late - Pete’s on him, one leg draping over his to hold him still, his hands at Patrick’s waist, tickling his stomach. He hasn’t done this in years - they’re grown up, married men, and it’s kind of weird now. That doesn’t stop him, though.

Patrick flails, starts giggling and slapping at Pete’s hands and saying, “Stop, stop, stop it, Pete, you fucking dick.” He’s trying to be quiet, so he doesn’t wake everyone up with his hysterical laughter, but Pete frankly doesn’t care if they wake everyone up. 

Finally, he stops and just rests his hands against Patrick’s stomach, rubbing gently at it with his thumbs. He hasn’t done this in a while, and he’s missed it a lot, the gentle give of his tummy under his fingers, the musky, Patrick-y smell of him.

“You’re an asshole,” Patrick says, breathing hard. “I’m wide awake now, you fuck.”

“Sleep,” Pete says. 

It takes a while, but eventually Patrick’s breathing slows, and once Pete’s sure he’s asleep, he pulls him closer so they’re pressed close. He kisses Patrick’s shoulder through his t-shirt, then rests his forehead against it and falls asleep.


End file.
